


This Delicate Thing We've Made

by dark_pulse



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mpreg, most of the bats make an appearance/are mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_pulse/pseuds/dark_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce  announces that there will be a new member of the family. Everyone else reacts accordingly, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so quick run down-- yes, this is mpreg, no, I don't really do an indepth look at the inner workings. I write it very simply: if a character says they're pregnant, they have the equipment to carry/birth the baby. For characters who are male or present male, this does mean some form of uterus and ovaries, but I leave things ambiguous enough that you can assume the character is intersex, trans, a new type of sex that allows the person to choose their gender based on their own desires, or a technical hermaphrodite (although this term is not really used for humans) if you wish. If you cannot suspend your disbelief past "this character is a man!", I suggest you stop reading now! You can now view pictures to go along with this fic here: http://notightsnooffense.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you're still here, I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you to Sparky for the beta.

 

It wasn't _planned_ , per se, but it was in the back of Bruce’s mind as something he wanted. It was contentment, he thinks. Not quite contentment with his life, but it was contentment with Clark. So really, if someone was going to be blamed, it was going to be Clark.

Although, he had been thinking about it for a long time. He flip flopped between “no, never,” to “maybe one day” and “I can handle it.” It was one of the few things he found himself actually daydreaming about. Clark didn't know, _shouldn't_ know, but somehow, Bruce was sure he was aware. It wasn't all that often that the League would deal with children, or even more rarely, infants; but when they did. Bruce could almost feel Clark's eyes on him.

It was a pipe dream, at least at first. But years went by, things became more and more established, Bruce had more and more people to call allies, and the urge became a little stronger. But there was no _time_ , and Bruce came to terms that there probably never would be. By the time he had the time, by the time he slowed down, it would be too late.

He thought the urge would die down with Damian, who looked like the perfect blend between himself and Talia. And it did, for a awhile, even if he could attribute that more to his lack of time than anything else.

He could say he was content. His house was full, he was, well, happy, generally. He had a little more time than usual. With Batman Inc up and running all over the world, he found a fair bit of his time used up simply coordinating with Oracle or scouting. He still had _time_. And one day-dream still loomed as a hope that he thought would pass as he aged.

It didn't.

That said, he didn't find himself surprised when he started to note subtle changes. A simple blood test confirmed his suspicions. It was still early on, early enough that he had time to either _decide_ or _plan_.

He opted for silent planning. A few new batsuits. Speeches written. Looked into taking a leave. Spent some time in the Fortress by himself, doing research.

Before he knew it, almost two months had passed by. He wasn't sure who knew. He wasn't keeping it a secret; that would be impossible in the coming months, but he didn't say anything either. Nausea made patrolling nothing less than adventure, and he was positive Alfred knew. He was greeted every morning since his blood test with a glass of something green, and prenatal vitamins.

Things were easily falling into place, his research had shown that he'd be safe. He just forgot one tiny little detail--

“So. A baby, huh?”

Bruce looked up from the quarter report on his tablet and gave Clark a barely discernible smile.

“Apparently.”

“Apparently _,_ this one says.” Bruce couldn't fight the arms that held him, even if he wanted to. “You're really going to do this?”

“Yes.”

“You really want this?”

“If I didn't, you wouldn't have even known.”

Clark let that roll around in his head for a moment, staying silent as Bruce continued to read.

“Can you see?” Bruce asked, after a moment.

“Mhm. I see fingernails.”

Clark returned to being silent after he spoke, but as far as Bruce could tell, he was just thinking. That was fine, he remembered reading the results of his blood test and sitting back, a hand rested on his lower abdomen. Clark had shifted, his hand moving to rest where Bruce's hand often sat, his lips pressed against Bruce's cheek.

“Thank you.”

Bruce grunted, giving a brisk nod. “We can talk more about it in a little while.”

“Alright,” Clark's voice was quiet, thoughtful, and it was the steel Bruce needed. They were going to have a child.

“Your baby, just over 1 1/2 inches long and about the size of a fig,” Bruce started reading aloud, “Is now almost fully formed. Her hands will soon open and close into fists, tiny tooth buds are beginning to appear under her gums, and some of her bones are beginning to harden. She's already busy kicking and stretching, and her tiny movements are so effortless they look like water ballet. These movements will become more frequent as her body grows and becomes more developed and functional. You won't feel your baby's acrobatics for another month or two — nor will you notice the hiccuping that may be happening now that her diaphragm is forming...”

 

Tim sighed deeply. There was no consoling Damian. He would not hear anything, and frankly, Tim didn’t know why Dick was bothering with him. Tim would not-- _was not_ , because he could already see how his life was going to change. Damian, however, seemed more than unwilling for a change of this magnitude.

They were all out of their suits, trying to process their new information in the den; Barbara looking contemplative, Steph seemingly amused, Cass’s fingers sliding over her phone. Dick was trying to calm Damian, who was pacing, but had finally resigned himself to lying on the floor in front of the fire, listening to Damian’s ranting.

Bruce  _had_ dropped quite the bomb on them. Cass was back from China, Barbara was in the Cave when he left, and when he came back Kon was there as well. He figured it was bound to be a really important announcement-- maybe Bruce would finally say something about that ring on his finger.

He wasn't expecting Bruce to say he was taking a bit of a  _leave of absence_ , and when he was questioned as to why, telling all of them he was pregnant. 

Tim had been dragged onto Kon’s lap in a show of protective affection as soon as they all got dressed and made their way upstairs. Kon seemed calm, watching Damian’s pacing with a bemused look on his face. Tim occupied himself with his phone, opting to ignore the scene in front of him.

{text; Unknown: ur fuckin me

Tim snorted, tapping out his reply as Kon buried his face in Tim’s neck, squeezing his arms around his boyfriend’s middle.

{text; dead serious. he told us tonight & you would have known if you came like he asked.

He pressed send and leaned back into Kon’s arms, getting a rumble of contentment from the meta, who seemed to be trying to crawl into Tim’s clothes with the way he was vying to get closer.

“You okay?” Tim asked, thumbing the shape code back into his phone.

“Mmm. Gonna be an older brother, I guess.”

“Is it worrying you?”

{text; Unknown: i don’t jump when b says. what’s going on?

“No,” Kon said lowly, picking his head up and resting his chin on Tim’s shoulder. “I like kids. If Batman lets me around him, I’ll be a good big brother.”

{text; nothing is really changing. b’s taking on a more passive patrol with extra back up. we’re still in the process of smoothing things over.

“I wish Damian were a bit more like you.” Tim muttered, sending his message.

“-tt- And why would I want to be like _him_?” Damian hissed, having finally stopped pacing to round on Tim.

And to Kon’s credit, he didn’t really respond, he just let out a sigh against Tim's neck.

“Just keep up appearances in public.” Dick said, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“No. If a reporter asks my opinion, I will tell them of my unborn rival.”

“Rival? Damian, it’s a baby.”

“So was I, at one point. “

Dick blinked slowly, moving his body to peer up at the youngest Robin. He opened his mouth to speak, but clicked it shut after a moment, and rolled over with a sigh.

“Yeah, but you were raised by assassins,” Tim piped up, rubbing his eye tiredly. “The baby won’t be, he’ll just be your little brother or sister.”

“It doesn’t matter. Siblings are always rivals; it’s always been that way.” Damian insisted, folding his arms. “I suppose it’ll be easy enough to assert dominance over him being—“

“That he’s a baby—“ Kon muttered.

“That he’ll be half alien,” Damian went on, as if Kon hadn’t spoken at all. “He’ll be easily overpowered by kryptonite.”

Heaviness immediately descended upon the room. A tense feeling, liable to end up turning violent. There was a tired sigh, a sharp gasp, Kon tensed behind Tim, and Dick sat up, his piercing gaze zeroing in on Damian.Tim’s hand found Kon’s, his thumb running over flawless skin in an effort to soothe. It barely kept Kon sitting, Tim could easily see if he wasn’t on Kon’s lap, Dick would have had to intervene.

Seemingly oblivious, or perhaps he did not care, Damian went on: “My brother will know his place.”

“Not your brother,” Kon snapped. Tim could feel his muscles tightening, he'd felt it before, when he was fighting alongside Kon, facing back to back. There would be no calming him either, not for awhile, and not easily.

Kon and Damian were oddly similar in their stubbornness, but now wasn’t the time to mention that. There was something about the way Damian was speaking—the sharp, selfish tongue that Tim had long since gotten used to, that had Kon on the edge.

Kon knew the pain of kryptonite, how it made his entire body feel like it was set aflame, every cell a perfect picture of searing, mind numbing pain—not just pain. It could kill him. It _would_ kill him. Damian had threatened an unborn innocent with that, simply to assert dominance. A childish notion. Possibly left over insecurities.

Possibly something to mention to Bruce, assuming Kon didn’t say anything too affecting. Possibly. There was no way Bruce hadn't already factored Damian's reaction, so perhaps mentioning it might not be welcomed.

But he couldn't let this particular instance slide.

“I don’t care about your daddy issues kiddo,” Kon continued, snapping Tim out of his thoughts. “and I really don’t give a fuck about your creepy sociopathic tendencies because that’s not even remotely my issue—I barely fucking know you. But you can keep that shit to yourself around me.”

“Conner—“ Dick started, but Kon went on anyway.

“You’re what? Eleven? Fucking eleven and can’t use your critical thinking skills to see how stupid, like critically, brain dead stupid you’re being. You’re threatening a defenseless, unborn infant. Shit, this isn’t you threatening me with kryptonite that I know you can’t even get to—this is a baby. You’re plotting against someone who hasn’t even taken their first breath yet.”

“Am I supposed to feel some type of remorse,” Damian snapped back, his arms growing taut in their folded, closed off position, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his upper arm. “A new being is entering my life, and he’ll be dangerous at birth.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the first thing a baby is gonna do is attack his frickin’ brother at birth. You’re a little psycho.” Kon started inching Tim to his feet so he could get up, snatching his jacket from the back of the couch. “And I’m only telling you this once: get those murderous thoughts out of your head, because I’m not the only one with super hearing in this house.”

Damian visibly bristled, poised to snap back, but Kon had said his piece and was pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to Tim’s cheek. Tim let out a breath.

“I’ll see you later,” Kon murmured against Tim’s skin, and Tim hummed his agreement. Kon nodded, giving the girls and Dick a little salute before turning on his heel and making his way towards the door.

Tim sank back into the couch, swallowing down a low groan. Damian had begun pacing again. Dick was rubbing his face tiredly and the girls—well Steph really, were speaking in hushed tones. Tim turned his attention back to his phone, finally responding to Jason.

{text; demon spawn isn’t happy about this.

“Stupid alien.” Damian muttered, his angry, pensive pacing coming to a sharp halt.

Which “stupid alien” Damian was talking about, Tim didn’t know, but he heard Dick’s sigh when Damian turned to stomp off.

{text; Unknown: whoa how fucking surprising.

{text; replacement issues?

{text; Unknown: ofc. he’s 11? 11 right? some people aren’t built to be big siblings.

{text; is that experience talking?

{text; Unknown: always. this is what happened to all of us when he showed up and he knows it.

{text; so he’ll have to deal like we did.

{text; Unknown: probs grow up a little too. don’t think b will tolerate his shit this time

{text; less worried about him, more worried about kon. tore into him today.

{text;Unknown: ha! almost sad i missed it. bring dickie tomorrow, we’ll talk.

{text; will do.

Tim flicked his attention back to the scene he had pointedly ignored; this baby didn’t have terribly much to do with him. If anything, it might give him babysitting duties, pseudo older brother responsibilities—but mostly it would give him more work to do during the pregnancy and the weeks Bruce would spend resting up after the birth. Dick lived in Bludhaven, he had a place in Gotham, but often found himself in Metropolis with Kon. This situation would create a ripple he'd feel, but nothing like the tidal wave that would be hitting Damian.

Someone had managed to defuse the situation; Steph, he assumed, as she had somehow coaxed the little hellion in for a hug and tugged him on to the couch next to her. Cass was murmuring to him quietly, brushing off his snappish tone. At least she never had to deal with Damian trying to kill her. If it were up to Tim, Damian would have been thrown out a window for that stunt.

There was still tension in the room, radiating directly from Damian, who was closed off to everyone but Cassandra. Tim assumed that Dick would get a hold of him later; Cass may be Damian’s comfort, but this was not about comfort, or anyone else’s thoughts. The baby was coming. It was as simple as that.

 

Kon was, oddly enough, in the arctic, floating in lazy circles near the Fortress.

It was early, maybe six am in Gotham when Kal reached the top of the world. Kon's back was ramrod straight, the hands that were tucked behind his head were balled into tight fists. His face was not at rest either, but twisted into a scowl.

Perhaps he wasn't angry. Sulking, like Bruce often claimed Clark was doing, but not angry. Kal flew closer, sighing relief when Kon stopped circling. He sat up, crossing his legs into a pretzel shape, but his back was frankly uncomfortably straight.

"Kon," Kal began, almost amused by Kon's deepening scowl.

"I'm not sorry, and I meant every word of it."

Kal snorted. "I didn't expect you to be. I did hear everything, and you're lucky Bruce didn't. You know he wouldn't take you talking to Damian like that very well."

"Someone had to say something, did you hear the garbage he was saying about my--" Kon sighed sharply and Kal raised an eyebrow. "The baby."

"I _did_ hear all of it, but Damian is Bruce's son, and it's his job to talk to him. Damian is honest, for better or for worse, and if Bruce didn't catch that, Dick would let him know."

"He threatened my brother with kryptonite."

"I  _know._ " Kal seemed a little quiet about the whole thing, and Kon felt his blood boil more. The baby would be his brother, but the baby was also  _Kal's_  son. His passiveness was too much.

"You  _know?"_ Kon sneered before he could stop himself. Kal tilted his head, and Kon gave himself a moment to pull his anger back in. It wasn't Kal he was mad at, not really. "If you know, how are you just going to sit there and say you know like it's okay that you know and you're not going to do anything about it?

“I've been with Bruce far longer than Damian has been around. I've been through Robins with him, I've been through death with him, I've been through life with him. I know how to handle Bruce.” Kal's arms were folded, he was poised, he was perfect -- one hundred percent Superman in a moment where Kon wasn't sure he should be. “Trust me when I say that Bruce can handle his son. It _is_ a big change, and he  _is_ only eleven.”

“So you're not going to do anything.” It was a question, but Kon could hardly be bothered to put an upwards inflection into his voice.

“I'm going to let Bruce handle his son.”

“And until then, I have to listen to the spawn of Satan talk about how he's going to get the kryptonite ring to go after my brother with. Fantastic.”

Kal inclined his head slightly towards Kon's sharp tone. 

Kon stressed brother. Maybe he already felt the kinship between himself and the baby-- Bruce's child would be half kryptonian, same as Kon. They would be siblings.

Technically.

He processed the information slowly, letting a slow breath escape his lips, the warmth getting lost in the frosty arctic air.

"He is my sibling, right? Kon tried, a little tentative.

Kal made a small sound, loud enough for Kon to hear, but it was not a "yes" or a "no". His relationship with his not-quite-clone had once again become strained. They were always a little awkward, as Kal never really chose a place in Kon's life; he drifted from obnoxious older brother, to a friendly uncle, to a proud father.

Kon clearly craved stability. He had it with Ma and Pa as his grandparents, he had it with his dangerously capable boyfriend, hell he even had stability with Luthor-- there was no question there. Luthor called Kon a son. Kon did not deny that, but he denied Luthor anything more than that. At least Kon knew were Luthor stood with him.

Even Kon's job was stable. He was Superboy at his core, college student when the glasses were on. His place on the team was secure, he was secure as he could be in his ever changing powers--

Which left Kal and his indecisiveness. Sometimes a cousin, more often a brother, but genetically, he was always Kon's father. Now, Bruce was expecting, and it would be a child that he would be proud to call his daughter or son.

"The baby will be family under the House of El, just as you are," Kal said finally, frowning at how undecided he sounded.

Kon sighed, and Kal opened his mouth to try and say something, _anything_ to erase the tired, resigned look on Kon's face, but Kon slumped a little, his fists uncurling to flatten against his thighs.

"Do you want to train a bit in the Fortress?" Kal asked, nodding towards the icy sanctuary a few miles off. Kon always lept at the chance to use his full strength and practice his kryptonian.

"Nah, I promised Tim I'd meet him for a movie."

"I see." Kal straightened up, watching carefully as Kon unfolded his legs, stretching his arms over his head. "Are things going well between you two?"

"Mmm," Kon replied, his mind clearly on something-- or rather, someone else. Probably listening for Tim's heartbeat. Kal could admit it was comforting to hear Bruce's and the baby's on the edge of his senses, always there in case something happened.

"We're steady as we can be with him working overtime on this 'delicate case.' He gets really intense," Kon huffed, an affectionate smile playing on his features. "But I reminded him it was date night, and he'll have my ass if _I'm_ late."

"I'll see you later then?"

Kon arched an eyebrow. "I'll be in his room for the evening. His apartment is getting some stuff done to it."

"Be safe then."

Another eyebrow raised.

"Be careful, I mean."

Both eyebrows aligned with Kon's hairline.

"Just go before I get the rest of the leg down my throat." Kal said with a half hearted sigh.

"Yeah, but it's so fun to watch!" Kon smiled, starting to float upwards.

"Good _bye_ , Conner." Kal said, waving the young man off with a barely audible snort.

Kon gave a mock salute before setting off, the sound barrier cracking in his wake.

Little show off.

 

 

“You're late, Smallville,” Lois greeted, tapping the large cup of coffee across from her. “But that smile says good news.”

Clark glanced at the glass windows of the coffee shop. She was right, his color was high and he had a silly smile on his face. He bit his lip and slid into his chair.

“Oh, no you don't,” Lois chided, reaching out to grab his hand. “Tell me, tell me, I haven't seen you this happy since Bruce agreed to date you.”

“He's pregnant.” Clark blurted out, smiling even brighter. “He told me last night, we're keeping it.”

“What? Bruce? Pregnant? Clark, April was months ago.”

Clark tapped his fingers against the side of his coffee. “I know. I'm not kidding.”

“Bruce is pregnant.”

“At _least_ two months along, so we're keeping it quiet for a while longer.”

“Oh, gosh--” Lois stood up, moving to the other side of the table to throw her arms around Clark's wide shoulders. “I'm so excited for you! He really said okay to keeping it?”

“Yes.” Clark held Lois close, basking in her happy, buzzing excitement. She pulled back slightly, pressing a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Wow. I never thought I'd see the day,” Lois murmured, moving to sit back in her seat. “Bruce Wayne with a bun in the oven. What about his night time activities?”

“He said he'll handle it, and I'm not sure I really want to get into that with him.”

“I doubt he'd appreciate the clucking.” She took a long gulp of her coffee, setting it down with a hollow thunk. “Still... Bruce. I suppose that means I win the bet.”

“Bet? What bet.”

“Ah, don't worry about it quite yet. I'll tell you in a few months time. But, I am happy for you. The both of you.”

Lois' smile was sweet and warm and open, and Clark was floating on cloud for the rest of the week.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian speaks to Cassandra, Bruce craves spicy things and Clark is excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave me kudos and commented on the fic. Yes, I'll be continuing this, yes, you'll be meeting the baby at the end. Yes, I'm probably going to be gross and write a bunch of domestic superbat with a baby fic. 
> 
> Thanks for the beta, Sparky!

Cassandra had earned Damian's respect and grudging trust at some point or another. She did not know when. Perhaps when they were trading blows while sparing. Maybe it was her quietness that Damian found relaxing. Her steadfast presence that made his tiny shoulders slump in a way that they couldn't in front of anyone else.

Maybe it was how she met him without any idea of how he _should_ be. She did not judge him for what he was. Accepted his challenges, his bitterness, his rage, did not try to take it away from him. Met him half way for a change.

They were painfully alike in ways that most overlooked, simply because where Damian was loud and arrogant, Cassandra was quiet and unassuming. But their pasts, their family life, their _parents_ _\--_ what they were expected to be. What they were becoming. What they wanted to be.

It was all achingly similar.

Damian found quiet solace in understanding, and Cassandra understood.

"Sister," Damian intoned, knocking on her bedroom door before he pushed it open. Cassandra looked up from a book and inclined her head to allow his entrance.

He was still dressed in his under armor; his face mask, boots and red tunic cast aside in the Cave. He shut the door with a quiet click. Cassandra patted the bed.

Damian was quick to climb on and sprawl next to her, forcing his body to relax into the plush mattress. Cassandra continued reading, rubbing his shoulder slightly.

She did not expect him to speak. She did not expect him _not_ to speak either, she simply took him as he was; tense back, crossed arms and silence. And she continued to read.

Damian sniffed. Cassandra shifted her touch to his hair, fingertips rubbing against his scalp, noting the large bump near the side from a few days ago. It was going down, finally.

"Father was out on patrol tonight. And Superman is here as well."

Cassandra nodded to herself. Clark had been a fairly regular visitor, eventually coming to be a live in guest of sorts at the manor. She was not quite sure what was going on there, he clearly lived at the manor, but still had an apartment in Metropolis. However, that apartment was mostly used by Conner. It all seemed rather silly, but she didn't trouble herself with it.

"I don't dislike him for being Father's consort."

She held her breath.

"I barely have his attention as it is. There's Grayson, Todd, Drake, you, Gordon... That Brown girl. He has the Wayne Foundation. The Justice League. Batman. Not even in that order. I am his Robin..." Damian sighed into the sheets. "But I am his son as well."

She nodded, although he couldn't see her. Her hand was still in his short mess of dark hair, her touch softening slightly as Damian curled in on himself.

"And now with a sibling to care for in five months, he'll be busy regaining fighting form and caring for the child and he-- he won't..."

She reached forward to give the boy a tug, enough to know he could reach for her, and he did, with startling gangly limbs. He was still a boy, not on the cusp of manhood; he was barely on the horizon of puberty. He had been through so much in such short years, being a weapon, being a bargaining chip, being a pawn. No one deserved that.

Damian had come far. Maybe not as far as he was expected to be, but he was still _trying_ , even if he didn't have to. Damian had come from a world of gray to fight from the shadows for a greater good.

It took adjustment. He was a _child_. Smart, of course. He was skilled, he was tempered, he had killed before. His body was as much of a weapon as anyone else who worked under Batman. He knew a lot, but understood little, and that's what most seemed to forget.

Damian fought for more than just his father. He fought to be loved.

Cassandra wrapped her arms around Damian's small form, taking in the small shudders that he was trying too hard to hold back. His face was buried in her shoulder, little hands gripping the back of her shit.

"He won't love his murderous son anymore." Damian spoke lowly, fiercely, like it was taking all he had in him not to cry. "He never wanted me. He hates my mother. I imagine he sees her when he looks at me, and now he's going to have a baby with the person he loves because he _wants_ to, and he'll look like both of them. He doesn't need me. He'll probably send me back."

Cassandra made an annoyed sound of disagreement, squeezing her brother tightly.

"Do your best, Damian." she said, her voice a little raspy. She let him cling to her like a lifeline, and in some ways, she was. "He can't ask for more than that, though he might. Do your best, and if you feel the need to do more, do it. Be better. But only if you want that."

Damian was silent, his grip on Cassandra's shirt growing slack. He was still awake, still listening, digesting his sister's words.

"Can I stay in here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Take off your under amour and put on a t-shirt." She pecked his forehead, running the pads of her thumbs over his cheeks, taking in his wearied expression with a little sigh of her own. Touch seemed to work with him, even if he often rejected it. She didn't always know what to say. More often than not, she had _nothing_ to say. But a soft touch, an affectionate kiss when the situation called for it; that all meant more than words for Damian.

"Clothes go in the basket in the cupboard, and grab a shirt from the drawers."

He crawled off the bed, doing as she requested with nothing more than a huff. "I don't think I want a sibling."

She did not question that, nor did she question the fact that he often referred to her as a sister. Perhaps he found it different to be blood related? He didn't like Tim, barely tolerated him really, but he accepted her easily.

"But Bruce wants another child. Possibly because of his contentment with his relationship."

"Father once asked how I felt about a step parent."

"That suggests an interest in marriage."

"I have no interest in taking on the name Kent."

Cassandra gave a thoughtful little hum as Damian climbed back on her bed. He flopped to his side to lie on her lap, facing up. She felt her heart clench slightly. He was so young; The light from her night stand made his cheeks seem a little bigger, still chubby with baby fat. It made her sigh.

"I want you to promise me something, Damian." she said, her voice low and steady.

"Anything," he responded.

"I don't want you to close yourself off and start making decisions now. Promise me you'll leave yourself open to learn and change."

Bruce's child didn't affect her terribly much, really. She didn't know much about babies, and even less about kryptonians, and the baby would be left in its parents' capable hands. But for Damian, it was hitting close. Hitting close to insecurities that he tended to overcompensate for, like the scene a few days ago in the den. He simply could not keep doing things like that. This baby, for better or for worse could help Damian, a little. If he accepted her. Cassandra may not know much about babies, but she had seen what they could do for some people, the lessons they could teach. And Damian could use a lesson in love and family ties.

"I can do that," Damian said after a few moments, shutting his eyes.

"That's all I ask."

  
  


Bruce felt more than saw Clark fly back into the Cave, the spicy smell of curry snapping his attention away from the prints spread out in front of him. He turned and met Clark's grin with a snort.

"You brought curry?" he asked, eying his lover dubiously.

"You said you could go for something spicy." Clark replied, setting the paper bags down on the low table he often used when he was in the Cave. "Don't just look at it, come here, I'm not eating alone."

Bruce heaved a sigh. "Fix me a plate, I need to finish this."

"What is it?"

"Tim brought the prints I need to finish this case. Gordon's been having trouble with getting a team ready for this take down, and Tim can easily do it himself, and faster."

"If you're running prints, doesn't that mean that the computer matches prints to the database and you stare at it intensely even though you really don't need to," Clark said, quirking his lips up into a brighter smile. "And can you look away and enjoy the curry I flew in all the way from Japan?"

"...is it from that little shop we visited with Dick?"

"Where else?"

"You incorrigibly sappy man. Fine." Bruce got to his feet, casting one last glance at the processes on the computer before moving to sit next to Clark, taking the plate Clark offered.

"Extra spicy, just like you asked." Clark fixed himself a plate and eyed Bruce with a curious stare.

"What?"

"Does the baby like curry?"

"She doesn't seem to care one way or another," he muttered with a shrug. "But I like curry, so I'm eating curry."

"I think Diana might know. John clearly knows."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Point, Clark?"

"Do you want to tell the League? I forgot to ask the other night."

Bruce was silent for a moment, smiling around his chopsticks as he thought about it.

"Bruce."

"I don't plan on actually telling anyone but Diana, we were going to make her one of the Godmothers, we agreed on that. If anyone else figures out and manages to work up the nerve to _ask_ me about it, I'll applaud them on their keen observation skills."

"See, I was lead to believe pregnant people were crankier than usual, but you're about the same level."

"Did you know," Bruce started, conversationally, "sex is completely acceptable during pregnancy? In fact, it's been shown to help when labor comes."

"I thought you didn't want to have sex down here except for that once--"

"With the way you're going, we won't be having sex until after the baby."

"I take back the cranky comment."

"We'll make a detective out of you yet."

Clark rolled his eyes and scooted closer to Bruce, basking in the extra heat Bruce was giving off. Bruce tended to be a little more relaxed in the Cave, the cowl was off, but the suit was still on, his cape pulled around his shoulders. Clark had been with him for about an hour before he flew off to get Bruce's dinner, but he spent the time working on an article, eyes glancing up every so often, greeting the rest of the Batclan as they came in from patrol.

Bruce didn't pay Clark much mind while he was working, but it's what Clark expected, it's why he brought his own work to do. He got up when Bruce asked for his stronger eyes, answered when Bruce asked for his opinion, but he was mostly just content to be around. It was a quiet night in Gotham, and with Kara's watchful eye over Metropolis, Clark allowed himself to relax and enjoy his time with his lover.

"Does she kick yet?" Clark asked after a time.

"Yes. I didn't know what it was at first, but if I stay very still, I can feel her moving." Bruce looked thoughtful. "She's been active this week, or maybe I'm just now noticing it, and I can feel it sometimes."

"Can I feel it?"

"Not yet," Bruce rolled his eyes at Clark's crestfallen look. "You'll feel her around month five or six, I've read, and you'll be holding her once she's born."

"But what if I wanted to hold her and you at the same time?"

"I thought baby hormones were supposed to affect _me_."

"Har har, Bruce. Now I see where Dick gets it."

"I'm being completely serious," Bruce said, a smirk in place. "I thought I was going to start brooding and nesting, but I see that it's gotten to you instead."

"I'm laughing on the inside," Clark deadpanned, devoting his attention back on his curry. "Howling really, I don't know how I'm holding it in."

"At least one of us is. Dick tells me Kon gave Damian an earful the other night."

Clark sighed deeply. "I spoke to him about it. I guess he already feels strongly about the baby, since they're both half kryptonian."

"He and Damian both have tempers. They're more alike than they probably want to admit."

"Isn't Kon upstairs? If he heard that, he'll probably start screaming."

"That's his problem," Bruce answered, setting his empty plate down. He grabbed the soda and rose to take his seat at the computer again, rolling his shoulders.

"How far along are you, exactly?"

"I don't have an exact time. But assuming I convinced during _that_ week," Bruce whirled around in his chair, fixing Clark with a stare. "Don't you dare laugh, Kent."

Clark held up his hands in mock surrender, biting his lip to keep from chuckling.

"If I'm counting from that week, I'd say I'm in my fourth month."

"Was that really four months ago? Huh. Time flies."

"Yes, and four months from now, you'll be changing diapers. It's relative."

"I better perfect the art of changing diapers at super speed now."

"You're joking. Please be joking."

"Absolutely not."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People shouldn't bother telling Bruce what to do. Dick knows this, and yet everyone thinks he should talk to Bruce about taking leave. 
> 
> Why exactly was he voted to do this again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my darling Sheva for stepping in and betaing and holding my hand all the time. -makes a heart with hands-

Some weeks later, Dick was sitting in the dining room of the Manor, one leg curled under him as he ate a bowl of cereal. Bruce was sitting across from him, quiet as always.

The pregnancy was a mission. Dick couldn't think of a better way to put it. It was a mission, same as any other mission presented to the rest of the family by Bruce. They all had their roles to play, their own judgment calls to make, but at least this time ass kicking took a back seat.

Unfortunately, Dick was voted team leader. Both Alfred and Clark were out of the running, leaving Dick, as the eldest, to keep the little things together.

He didn't want this-- he didn't even live at the Manor anymore, he visited regularly, but he didn't _live_ there anymore, he didn't get to tell Bruce anything about taking it easy. Clark didn't tell him to take it easy, Alfred didn't _say_ take it easy, and why should they? Bruce was a grown ass man with a line of children, he didn't need to be told how to take care of himself.

It wasn't like Bruce was really taking risks. Damian was more than eager to do the fighting with Cassandra as back up. He needed to let a little aggression out, it was good and perfectly healthy for him to do that.

Batman, for at least three or so more months could be a symbol, that someone was always watching. It was more than enough-- most of the thugs that they dealt with were easily scared by the mere sight of Batman. The tougher members of the Rogue Gallery were dealt with by himself and Tim. Gotham needed Batman, but Batman needed backup this time.

Barbara was working overtime on intel, keeping the streets as clean as humanly possible, Steph had taken to doing work beside Red Hood, who had taken up some of the little slack around the edges. Everything was working, they were a well oiled machine, meant to keep up appearances that nothing had changed for Batman, even if he was changing in a very subtle sort of way, never mind the non subtle sort of changes.

For Bruce Wayne, the billionaire Ex Playboy, things were perfect. He'd be outfitted with padding that had been working up in size since his third month, he had been carefully choosing suits that highlighted the "weight gain", and brushing off most questions about it for a few short weeks. He waited until Gotham's Memorial Hospital had made their intentions to update their neonatal wing, and gave generously to help with the costs, and asked if the maternity ward could use an update too, and if it would be done in, oh, the next four or so months?

The Gotham society rags had the answers they had been looking for in the past month. Dick had to hand it to Bruce, he was thinking ahead in a way that suggested that maybe, just maybe, he had wanted this for awhile. Not that Dick could really approach that topic, but he could respect a certain flair for the dramatic. The way Bruce glanced into Clark's eyes with naked adoration, Clark's own loving gaze and the way his arm curled protectively around Bruce's front. The reporters ate it up.

The news of the pregnancy shot Bruce even farther into Gotham's good graces, even more than settling down had. Dick could remember at least four articles on Clark having made an "honest man" out of Bruce. He could remember the sour look on Bruce's face after Clark read the paper to him as clear as day **,** and he bit back a smile, earning him a raised eyebrow from Bruce, who was sitting across the table.

As far as he knew, Bruce was five and a half months along, but if he didn't announce it, Dick might have never noticed. Bruce's abdominal muscles were still tight, strong after years of conditioning and training, and it was taking a long time for them to loosen; for him to stretch and actually _look_ pregnant. The other signs were there, the cravings (spicy or sour), other body parts swelling (Bruce had taken to not even bothering with shoes most of the time), on top of general discomfort (he felt off balance) and tiredness that he couldn't shake.

Bruce set his drink down-- some sort of green sludge that was mostly prenatal vitamins for the baby and B6 vitamins to keep his stomach from revolting-- and stared harder at Dick, who was chewing his cereal slowly, matching Bruce's stare.

Dick was supposed to be talking to Bruce about taking it easy, being he was "team leader" and all that crap that he absolutely didn't want. A little brother or sister, fine, that's great, but that was also _Bruce's_ kid, not his, and he didn't want to tell Bruce to stay home, he liked the arrangement of his face, thank you very much.

Bruce had been meticulous and slightly obsessive about every aspect of this mission-- no, pregnancy. Dick didn't expect any less, no one did. He didn't want to have this stupid conversation, he fucking refused the idea. It was stupid, and everyone that mentioned it to him was stupid, too. And nosy, to boot. Bruce could easily care for himself.

Dick's spoon was hanging out of his mouth as he battered ideas around in his head of what to say that didn't involve the words "Fuck" and "You", as that sounded a little Jason for his liking. all while steadfastly ignoring Bruce's eyeroll. So what if he was indulging in Fruit Loops? Bruce was drinking green _sludge._

"If you're done racking your brain for why I should relax, or take some time off," Bruce started, after draining his sludge, "why don't you add in these variables: Gotham without Batman. Kryptonian physiology. Batwoman. And don't tell me what to do."

Dick took a long, noisy slurp of his milk, making Bruce wince.

"You're kind of an asshole," Dick said conversationally, garnering a snort from Bruce.

"And you're a pig," Damian sounded grumpy as he entered the dining room, rubbing his face.

"Good afternoon, young master," Alfred greeted, placing a full plate on the table, and you know what, Dick was pretty over people just appearing in the kitchen. Alfred picked up his bowl before he could stand, and Dick huffed.

Alfred had been the calmest about the pregnancy. He'd been the first to know, he'd been the been the first person that Bruce had come to when he waiting for his test to come back, he'd been the one listening as Bruce paced, trying to make a decision. Ever present, ever stable Alfred-- and that's what Dick was missing, wasn't he? Alfred.

Bruce _was_ taking it easy, as easy as Batman could realistically take it. Dick was no where near as dumb or air headed as his baby blues would lead one to believe. He was raised by Bruce, trained by Batman-- he was a detective in his own right.

The change was subtle, but extensive, now that he thought about it. Bruce's sleeping habits were-- well, it was noon. Bruce rarely rose before two pm, assuming he went straight to bed after patrolling, which he wasn't likely to do.

But he  _had_ been resting right after patrolling. Dick had noticed it when he came to the cave to see Tim working away on a new case. Barbara had been working overtime with Tim as well. Not that Bruce had been working any less, really, but he was coordinating more, doing more casework; giving himself a little more space to breathe and shift his focus to other things.

It was unexpected, Dick would admit that. It was possibly why he didn't connect all the small things. The family had gotten much bigger than Batman and Robin running across Gotham's rooftops. Big enough that Bruce could afford to take a break for the better part of the year.

Not that he was going to actually take a break, but the option was there, if he wanted it.

'It's a show of trust,' Dick thought to himself, watching silently as Bruce dotted on his son in his own way, inquiring about his training and his schooling focus, carefully deflecting questions about the baby. It was all very mundane.

Dick tutted his approval. Damian was still working on adjusting completely to Clark, as far as he knew. Bruce knew to keep the baby talk down around him. Dick would have felt bad for the little hellion if he didn't go through something similar, with Damian, no less. He proclaimed himself Bruce's “real son” for awhile, it was difficult for Dick, even at the age he was at. He could understand Damian's problem on a basic level, but it was childish in a way that Dick had long since discarded. Hopefully Damian would see reason as time went on.

Mundane was fine. Mundane was good, it was great right now, mundane was what they needed.

Mundane wasn't going to last long and they all knew it.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is six months pregnant, Diana and Lois have plans, and Damian sees his sibling for the first time. Kon has glow in the dark condoms, but that's neither here nor there, really.

Bruce's sixth month of pregnancy brought more changes, but all of them were pleasant. He'd been reading through pregnancy books, sorting out what applied to him and what didn't. It was easy enough, female pregnancy and male pregnancy mostly differed in comfort levels and hormones. His was fairly typical.

The sixth month was supposed to be the “settling month”, where most could easily see he was pregnant, and the aches, pains, and discomforts of carrying another human would be a daily problem. It was also supposed to be when his nausea and extreme distaste for spinach would finally ease up.

The nausea _did_ ease up, but Bruce assumed that was due more to Alfred's anti-nausea shakes than his body finally coping with the vast hormone changes. Moreover, he still wasn't “showing” in the traditional sense. He had the corresponding padding to match his sixth month, and he was nowhere near the corresponding size. In fact, one would have to have enhanced senses to noticed the extra heartbeat, because Bruce could still fit into his Batsuit with minimal effort.

But when he looked in the mirror, he could see it. His midsection was softening and stretching to accommodate the baby, but it still had not shaped into the traditional “bump” that had people cooing over him. There was a sort of roundness lower down, but it was small. Unnoticeable, unless someone was looking close and knew what they were looking for.

But no one with a speck of sense was getting that close to him shirtless.

Being _Batman_ and being pregnant was difficult at the best of times, painstakingly obnoxious at other times. It was hard to to intimidate and step back, it was hard to keep the promise to take it easy. When those words usually left his lips, it was a promise to keep himself safe, but it was still _himself_. Now it was someone else, someone who had started to kick and punch and distract him.

It was hard, but it's not like his body would let him go back on his promises. He couldn't shake the exhaustion that had set in, couldn't stop his cravings, but he also couldn't exactly stop being Batman either. The balance was difficult, but he was managing. He _was_ , everyone's offers of a complete paternity leave be damned. There was a lot to do still, even if he didn't get to kick faces in anymore.

Damian seemed to enjoy the extra work, anyway.

Bruce let out a little sigh and tugged a shirt over his head. Today was another ultrasound to check on the baby's development, and to try and see if the baby was really a girl like Bruce believed. The overwhelming public opinion was that he was expecting a boy. He hoped the baby was as contrary as he was.

His appointment was in the evening, which left Bruce with a few hours to spare. Even after these last few months of rising early to soak in the sun for the baby, it still threw him off. He glanced at his arms, snorting softly at the light tan he had. He was hard pressed to be outside in October without a shirt on, and as it got colder, he'd be hard pressed to go outside in general.

“You'd better be grateful, miss.” Bruce said quietly, running his hand over his belly. He could feel the flutter of movement, the slight pulse of a kick, and he smiled to himself as he made his way downstairs. Alfred was serving brunch.

To Diana, Clark and Damian.

Bruce heaved a sigh. He was planning on officially telling Diana this week. She knew, of course, anyone who knew his secret identity knew, but also knew not to mention it. He did _sort of_ tell her, he had mentioned the baby once or twice. In passing. When they were alone on the Watchtower. Talk of his relationship was off limits to most, and the League respected that.

Or were simply too green or oblivious to note anything.

Diana looked up as he descended the staircase, a curious sort of smile playing on her face. Bruce winced. He couldn't quite place what that smile was, but he had seen it aimed at Clark. It was rarely good.

“Hi Diana,” he greeted, pulling up a chair.

“You look radiant,” Diana said, taking a sip from her glass of orange juice. “Positively glowing.”

“A side effect of pregnancy, I'm told,” he said, glancing at Clark, who was trying and failing to hide his amusement behind a napkin.

“Which I am, by the way,” he continued as Alfred set a plate in front of him, a knowing smile on his lips. Bruce scowled.

Diana's returning smile was all teeth. “Oh, are you? That would explain Lois requesting my assistance with a baby shower.”

Bruce shot a look at Clark, who shrugged sheepishly. He clearly was not going to be any help. There was no reason for a baby shower; anything his child would need, he could get it. In fact, the development of the nursery was well under way.

“It would explain that, if I were having a baby shower.”

“Well, you are!” Diana clapped her hands, her smile gentling. “It is your sixth month, correct?”

“It is, but--”

“I think the shower should be soon, then. Before the first snow.”

“Diana--”

“You wouldn't begrudge me that, would you Bruce?” She asked, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “After all, the baby is my godchild, correct?”

“Yes--”

“I would like to celebrate the impending birth of a great warrior. Something small, for family, but of course I will be assisting Lois with her plans.”

“What--”

“Don't worry about a thing, it will all be handled.”

“That's what I'm worried about,” Bruce sighed, turning his attention back to his meal. A family attended baby shower couldn't be _that_ bad, but another Gotham night being being treated like everyone's _sweetheart--_ as if he didn't remember what they were writing about him less than sixth months ago-- would be obnoxious. Never mind the constant touching and cooing at him, along with the syrupy sweet smiles and sighs when Clark looked at him. Lois really did plan to make good of their bet from when he and Clark first got together. Bruce almost wished he could go back in time and rip those sarcastic words from his mouth.

“Sure, Lois, if I ever have a baby, I'll let you plan the shower,” he'd said, his voice a rumble of deep sarcasm, but Lois seemed adamant.

“Shake on it,” she had demanded.

He did. And now, here he was, with Diana also at the helm of this crazy train driving him around the bend. Wasn't he supposed to have less stress in his life?

'That'd be the day,' Bruce thought sourly, brushing stray hairs up from his face.

“Bruce, I can't make it to today's appointment,” Clark started, catching Bruce's attention as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

“You know you don't have to be at _every_ appointment, right?” Bruce slipped his glass of water, a brow raised neatly.

“I know, but I want to be there. Good parenting starts at pregnancy.”

Damian snorted around the fork in his mouth, shaking his head. “If Superman isn't going to be there, I want to go, Father.”

Bruce set his glass down, glancing at his son with his face set neutral. Damian had shown next to no interest in the baby, besides inquiring about his father's health. It was better than the outright hostility he had shown when the pregnancy was announced, but not by much.

“If that's what you want,” Bruce replied, his tone tentative. “The appointment is in a few hours.”

“Well, now that that's settled, I really have to go,” Clark said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. “My job is on the line, yet again, so I won't be back until later. Damian, will you bring me back a picture?”

Damian scowled deeper into his meal, and did not design to answer.

Bruce grunted his acknowledgment, allowing Clark to tip his head back and kiss his forehead lovingly. “See you tonight,” the Kryptonian murmured before taking off.

Diana smiled, this time with less teeth, a smile that made Bruce quirk his lips upward as well.

“Yes?” he queried, glancing at his breakfast as if he'd just seen it.

“Happiness is a good look on you,” she said with a little hum, blowing cool air over her tea.

They ate the rest of their meal in a peaceful silence.

  


Bruce's appointment was at seven forty-five, but Damian dragged him to the car at seven. Gotham Memorial Hospital was no more than twenty minutes away, yet Bruce allowed himself to be dragged, curious about his son's impatience to reach the hospital.

The car ride to the hospital was silent sans for the scritch of Bruce's pen on a small questionnaire he was filling out. His brows furrowed at some of the questions, chewing the top of his pen thoughtfully as Damian sighed next to him, turning to pull out his Nintendo DS from his jacket pocket. He had a great love for Pokemon that he kept to himself, quietly playing the old games, brows furrowed as he stayed awake until the early dawn hours. It kept his mind occupied when his thoughts got the best of him.

The fact that he had developed a spiritual connection with his fire starter was another matter entirely.

Damian had remained as open minded as he could about being a brother, just as Cassandra had requested. It had helped a little bit, to take in his father's his happiness and try to accept the changes. It was slow going; the baby seemed so abstract to him, as if it was happening to someone else. His father didn't look pregnant. He didn't talk about the pregnancy unless he was asked about it. It didn't seem quite real. It was like a small elephant in the room, if he was using that phrase correctly.

He supposed he was coming along to see what the fuss was about. The appointment was supposed to be an opportunity to see his sibling. His father tended to come from ultrasounds with a small smile on his lips, and if Superman was with him, they were far more hands-y with each other than typical.

The glow Wonder Woman had spoke of that afternoon was now obvious to him. He cast a glance to his father, who was still writing.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the hospital, and Damian followed his father up to the doctor's office. He'd never been to Gotham's hospitals, but to Damian, they were all about the same-- the sharp smell of disinfectant, the grim faces of people waiting and the happy faces of those who received good news.

The hospital wasn't a particularly nice place to be and Damian was already ready to leave.

Dr. Anna Thompkins' office was on the fifth floor of the building. It was a little cluttered, covered in folders, pictures and chinese take out in a mass on her desk. The walls were the same uniformed white bordered blue walls, with white bottoms.

Bruce had specifically asked her to handle his pregnancy, and Damian assumed she knew the family secret, her last name sounded familiar to him. She was young, younger than he assumed she was going to be. Not that he was any good at telling ages, but he was expecting an older woman, maybe in her fifties. Anna looked to be in her mid thirties; her hair a dark red, darker than Oracle's, tied up into a messy bun, with decorative sticks holding it together. Her eyes were a light blue behind thin rimmed glasses and an oval shaped face. She was dressed in blue scrubs with lollipops adorning the top.

Dr. Thompkins greeted him with an assessing once over before she smiled and stuck out her hand to shake his.

“You must be Damian,” she started, nodding at him and Bruce to follow her to an examination room. “And you already look terribly bored of this. Don't worry, this will be a quick check up. As long as your dad has kept up with his vitamins and kept his stress levels low, he should be fine.”

Bruce winced as they entered the examination room and he tugged off his jacket. Damian moved to plop himself in the extra chair in the room, slumping down and cracking open his DS again. Anna came around as Bruce sat on the examination table, pulling a blood pressure pump around his solid arm.

“Alright, middle of your sixth month. How are things with the baby?”

“She moves steadily throughout the day,” Bruce replied, rolling his shoulders idly. “But she's most active after meals or when I'm trying to rest. She's not big enough to bring any discomfort, though.”

“Typical. That's good,” the doctor said, humming her approval as she continued the basic check up. “Your blood pressure is a little on the high side, but that doesn't surprise me. You need to watch it. The rest of your vitals look normal; be careful when it comes to your blood pressure and the stress. Just keep up with your prenatal vitamins, and we'll be seeing a healthy baby in January.”

“What about now,” Damian blurted out, his attention still seemingly on his game. “Can we see the baby now?”

“Sure thing,” Anna replied, her eyes glittering curiously at the young boy. “Let me get the ultrasound up and we'll take a look; maybe we'll finally see if it's a girl or boy. Baby Wayne's always been a little camera shy, it seems.”

Bruce tugged his shirt out of his pants, unbuttoning the lower buttons and pushing it back as he eased himself back against the examination table. There was a tiny smile on his lips, held back by his teeth lightly pressed into his bottom lip.

“Incoming cool gel,” Anna lilted, plopping a dollop of the goo on Bruce's rounding belly, smoothing it down with the ultrasound wand. “Have you started thinking about your birthing plan, Bruce?”

“Somewhat.” Bruce answered, his eyes glued to the screen as the doctor looked for the baby's head. “A private room, extra room for family, and I want it drug free. I can handle it.”

“I don't doubt it. Now, let's see,” Anna sniffed, her hand stilling. “Ah, there's the head. Check it out, Damian, there's your little brother or sister.”

She brought her hand up to point. The image on the screen shifted, catching Damian's attention. He squinted. He could make out the head shape, could see a tiny arm, a curled fist--

“The torso is here, and well...” Anna clicked her tongue, chuckling. “Looks like she wanted to show off for her brother. Start thinking of girl names, it's a girl!”

“It's a girl?” Damian asked before Bruce could respond. “I have a sister.”

“Mhm,” Anna hummed, sounding pleased. “A little winter baby girl. After all the press and speculation on another Prince of Gotham, looks like they were all wrong.”

Bruce snorted, his eyes still focused on the screen. The baby was moving, stretching-- at least that's what it looked like to Damian. He could hear the thud of her heartbeat, echoing from the machine, could see her tiny fists uncurling and curling back up, short legs jerking out to stretch.

“She's tiny.” Damian stated, no particular inflection in his voice.

“Six months along is a safe point,” Anna started to explain, writing down a few notes. “By now, she's mostly just maturing, and that's what she'll be spending the next few months doing. If anything were to happen now and she was born this week, she would have a solid chance at life. I assume being half Kryptonian would help with her stability, but this is unprecedented, and unless I ask Superboy or Supergirl, I'm running on guess work for this pregnancy. Speaking of which, how's the sun intake, Bruce?”

“Regular, around noon daily.” Bruce replied, running his finger over the side of his belly. “Can I have a picture for Clark? He asked for one.”

Damian muttered an “oh” as Anna printed off a few copies of the screenshot.

“That's about it for today,” Anna said, wiping Bruce's belly with a towel and shutting off the ultrasound machine. “Are you going to dinner after this?”

“Yes.” Damian said, flicking his father a look. Bruce raised his hands in surrender.

“Fantastic. Roll up your sleeve Bruce, I need a blood sample to check your glucose.”

  


Kon was almost vibrating with energy. Tim barely cast him a glance, focusing on the book in front of him. It was the first night off he'd had in two months, and he wanted to spend it with Kon.

However, Kon was buzzing with excitement over the picture of the baby Bruce had given to him. Tim never thought Bruce would be having a girl, but that's what he announced, and that's what Kon was gushing over.

So Tim read. Kon would calm down eventually. It was endearing the way he wanted to know everything about his little _sister_ , but how he was still terrified of Bruce.

The two were in Metropolis, tucked away for the evening in Clark's apartment. Looking around though, it was very clearly Kon's apartment. Clark spent most of his time in Gotham, leaving his bare Metropolis apartment for Kon to fill with his things, leaving it pleasantly cluttered and lived in. Tim had a few of his personal touches around, along with half of his clothing.

It was like home, really. Just for the two of them.

“Hm. You smell nice.”

Tim lifted his gaze from his book. It was about time Kon paid him some attention.

“Do I.” he deadpanned, closing the book. 

“You do,” Kon said, crawling between Tim's legs with practiced ease. Tim huffed, setting his book to the side.

“You smell so good, did you actually shower today?”

“I think I'm insulted hearing that from you. Actually, scratch that, I'm insulted, go rub one out.”

“Mhm,” Kon went on, undeterred. “Right into the small of your back, I think, but I'd rather come in you, I think. Dunno if I want you flipped over on your belly so you can arch for me, or if I just want to be between your thighs.”

Tim raised an eyebrow as Kon started tugging his sweats down, making no effort to help him. “And where exactly did this all come from?”

“Are you complaining?” Kon asked, nibbling along Tim's exposed skin as he tugged Tim's sweatpants off completely. He gave Tim a once over before pulling the slighter boy onto his lap, crossing his legs under Tim's behind before dragging his lips along Tim's neck. “Wait, did you get your implant replaced yet?”

“You've been in my ass at least twice a day, all week, and now you're worried about the implant?”

“I've been wearing condoms!” Kon rubbed his thumb along the small line of stitches where the implant once sat. Tim had managed to get sliced right where his implant was, and it had to be taken out when he got stitched up.

“Yeah, yesterday.” Tim replied, brushing Kon's hand away from the still tender cut.

Kon huffed against Tim's neck, nuzzling until he heard a soft chuckle fall from his lips.

“Baby? Babe? Baby boo, Timmy, please? I even got new condoms.”

Tim tugged his shirt off and pushed Kon back, straddling his jean clad thighs. “Notice how I never say no.”

“You just like antagonizing me.” Kon huffed, bringing his knees up for Tim to rest back again, rolling his slim hips down against Kon's. “You always get me riled and tense so I really slam into you.”

“It's not like I was ever hiding that fact.”

Kon snorted. “Up, I have to get the condoms.”

“Up? You're already hard,” Tim grumbled, rolling off onto his side. “And you were looking at a picture of your unborn sister.”

“Um, no, that's weird.” Kon bent down to dig through the bedside drawer. “You weren't paying attention, so I put the picture up on the dresser and started thinking about your ass and now I want it.”

Rolling over onto his stomach, Tim rested his head on his hands, watching as Kon stripped down, taking in everything that he boyfriend was – broad back, strong shoulders, thick arms and torso – okay, maybe it wasn't so far fetched that Kon got hard so fast. Tim shifted and rolled again, settling himself against the pillows, his eyes slipping shut.

When did they get to this point, exactly? Tim questioned it silently, running his hands along his arms. Maybe in comparison, they hadn't been together that long; it had been four years since Tim had gotten Kon to say “Yes, I'm your boyfriend”, and they'd already managed to fall into the sort of domestic bliss that some with less hectic lives only dreamed of; a kind of all encompassing love that Tim had stopped believing in when he was young.

Kon's lips pressed against Tim's, making him smile and bring his arms up, their bodies easily slotting together, Tim's legs easily wrapping around Kon's hips.

If they could, Tim wanted to stay in the glow of their love for as long as they both lived, as long as they could still come back to each other, through anything.

'If we can make it through death,' Tim thought, as Kon pressed a soft kiss to his ring finger, dragging his lips up Tim's arm. 'We can make it through anything.'

“Okay, so I know you're going to judge me in a minute,” Kon started, breaking Tim out of his thoughts. His voice had turned husky with arousal, so Tim nodded, just wanting to hear more of that. He took to Kon's neck, dragging his teeth against impenetrable skin just how Kon liked it. Kon shivered, rutting his hips up against Tim's slow downward rolls.

“You have to turn off the light, Tim, come on, not the neck--”

“Yes, the neck. And no, I want to see you, too.”

Their lips again, the heat between them building slow, uncurling deep in their bodies as Kon pressed Tim further back against the pillows, reaching off to the side to click the bedside light off.

Tim huffed, breaking the kiss to dig around for the tube of lube. “I want the lights on.”

“They have to be off!” Kon replied, taking the offered tube.

“What for?”

“The condom glows in the dark, I wanna see!”

“ _Kon!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is mostly done on my word processor but I need to get it beta'd and stuff, and I started working on the second part. I dunno if you guys want gross, domestic superbat with a newborn, but I did a little of that for afterwards. I also got super distracted with writing dc/marvel crossover aus. There's like... two. I just have this urge for Jason to be best friends with Wade Wilson and Bucky Barnes, okay?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian considers having a sister. Batman isn't pregnant, but Bruce Wayne is. Bruce considers when the other shoe will drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't forget about this fic, I just haven't been super impressed with myself lately, and it's made writing a neverending struggle. I feel like this is super disjointed, so hopefully from this point in the fic on, things will seem a little smoother. Thank you for waiting, and thank you for all the reviews and kudos, I read and cherish each and every one.

The ultrasound picture was tucked in Damian's sock drawer, and he'd pull it out every so often to look at. It was curious how out of reach the baby seemed before, something that was happening to his father, something that he didn't have to react or respond to.

But now, it seemed as though the small things that he barely noticed before were suddenly very  _ there. _

One of the larger spare rooms had been slowly been made into a nursery. He recalled his father flipping through a large catalog of cribs with Superman by his side, murmuring quiet thoughts as his father flipped the page.

Things were continuing, whether he wanted them to or not.

He stepped into the baby's room and looked around. It was mostly complete; the walls were painted intricately, showing the planets of the solar system in delicate detail against the vast backdrop of space. The crib was round and wide, more like a bassinet than a crib, and it was adorned with a high, gauzy and lacey canopy.

Damian raised a brow as he turned, taking in the room's aesthetics, the dark wood changing station, bookshelves already stocked with books for children, books for adults to read to toddlers, along with a set of low couches and a rocking chair. The changing table was well stocked, the crib already prepared-- everything was ready for a baby.

A little girl.

He rubbed his face softly, stomping from the room in a huff. Adding a sex, seeing a picture... it made her that much real to him.

Or perhaps made him more aware.

The subtle changes that he barely took note of before spoke in volumes now. People visited often; he'd seen Grayson and Oracle around more than usual, claiming to be “checking in”. Superman rarely seemed to stay at his apartment in Metropolis. He often saw Superboy in the early mornings. The people who were considered  _ family  _ were around more, offering their support and their help.

Damian couldn't think of any instance of his father taking the offered help, but it was still offered.

He walked slowly through the manor, tromping down the stair case and into the main den, intent on finding Cassandra.

“Sister,” he mumbled as he stepped into the room. He stopped short, seeing her perched on Red Hood's lap. He was fast asleep, head lolling back against the couch, his mouth hanging open. Cassandra looked content, curled against his chest with a book in her hands. She glanced up as Damian entered the room.

“Yes?”

“I would like to speak to you.”

She nodded to the empty spot next to Jason, but Damian stayed standing.

“He sleeps deeply. What is it?”

The boy shifted from foot to foot, looking down. “A few days ago, Father took me to his ultrasound scan.”

“A little girl?”

“Another sister,” Damian agreed, moving closer to the couch. He jumped up and sat on the arm of the chair. “I saw her arms and legs move.”

Cassandra drew her legs up, making Jason grunt softly. He kept sleeping though, and Damian waited a moment before speaking again.

“I don't know what to do.”

“What do you  _ want _ ?”

“Be an only child.”

“No.”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“I'm... not sure if this is the right way to do it, but,”

“But?” Damian pressed.

“I think you should speak with Bruce about how you're feeling.”

“I'd rather speak to my mother about how I'm  _ feeling _ .” the boy sneered.

Cassandra chuckled softly, lacing her fingers with Jason's. She appeared to think on his question for a moment, chewing her lip. Damian waited.

“Really? Your mother?”

“Assuming Father doesn't find out?”

“Yes.”

Damian rolled the information over in his head. It had been a long while since he'd seen his mother.

“I can cover for you,” Cassandra went on, rubbing her thumb over Jason's knuckles, a fond look on her face. “If you go. If you  _ have _ to go…”

Cassandra trailed off. Damian couldn't tell if she couldn't finish that thought, or didn't want to-- at least not around him.

He made a little noise, half way between a huff and sigh before sliding himself off the couch and leaving the room. Cassandra turned her attention back to her book.

“He's warming to her.” Jason's hands came up to wrap around Cassandra's waist, keeping his fingers laced with hers.

“To the...  _ idea _ of her. Sleep.”

“I'm fine now, though.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep.”

She felt a puff of air next to her cheek as Jason sat up a little straighter, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Just keep reading,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

So, she did.

  
  


Batman wasn't pregnant. Bruce Wayne was,  _ very  _ obviously so, but Batman wasn't. Batman was hanging upside down, carefully watching the movements of a group of Two Face's thugs. He hadn't really  _ meant _ to run into such a hostile group-- but these things happened and he was more than equipped to deal with it. 

Was his daughter? 

Possibly. 

Maybe. 

He didn't know how half kryptonians worked in the womb. He could only assume she would be very human until she had some actual sunlight on her skin, and even then, they simply didn't know. 

Batman yanked a patrolling thug and lifted him back up to his perch.

"What are you do--Ahh!"

He swung from one perch to another and then another, as the rest of the thugs started moving towards the sound of their fallen comrade's screams. 

The baby was still nameless, much to Bruce's annoyance. Names had been flying since they found out the sex of the baby, but none had really stuck with him. Everyone seemed to know, as well, prompting some people to sometimes give him a name they liked, only to receive a narrowed glance in their direction or a considering hum that usually led to a succinct "no". 

The latest name had been Illia. Bruce didn't quite dislike it, but he felt that it wasn't right. He wanted something... _perfect._ It had to fit. He truly did not understand how parents named their children before they were born. How could he name someone he didn't really know?

He knew a bit about his daughter, he could admit. She moved the most after he was done eating, and was active in the afternoon, into the evening. She didn't move very much when he put headphones over his belly for her to listen to. She would kick if he placed his hand low on his belly. She responded when he managed to prod her hard enough.

Having such strong responses gave her a bit of personality, at least to him.

Truth be told, while Bruce had already considered and weighed the ramifications of his pregnancy, he found himself really thinking about it deeper as his due date drew closer. What his child would mean for the rest of his family as she grew up. What it meant for his relationship with Clark. What it possibly meant for the world. He didn't want to assume, but crime fighting was in this child's blood.

"We could name her after Diana," Clark had mentioned at monitor duty, one evening. 

"No, we couldn't." Bruce had replied, without heat. It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of honoring their child with Diana's name, but he wanted her to be different. 

"Come out, Batman! We know you're hiding in there!"

"Wait, man, how do you know that Batman's even in here? He doesn't even know we're here."

"Its  _ Batman. _ "

Just like Kon, the baby would be half kryptonian, and would most likely hold the same power set, and would have him around to help her as her powers came to light. 

She would be under a harsh light, simply for being his daughter, both in her public life and as a hero, if she chose to do so. 

Secrets were kept in the super hero community, sure, but they were all awful gossips, and it wasn't a secret what was going on with Superman and Batman.

Bruce could think that Batman wasn't pregnant all he wanted, but the founders of the League knew, and if his daughter chose to stand by his side when she grew older, she would also stand at Clark's side as he daughter as well. 

Just as Kon had to set himself apart from Clark, their daughter will have to set themselves apart from _both_ of them. He already casted quite the shadow on anyone who was a Robin, but he could barely imagine the pressure she may face.

It was hard to fight pregnant. He could manage, sure, but he was always holding back. Fighting from a distance. Dodging and defending instead of being on the offense. He didn't want to _run_ , he didn't want to _move_ if he was going to be honest with himself. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“It's Hood! Get him!”

Batman glanced over to see Red Hood roundhouse kicking a thug in the gut with his usual finesse and smirked to himself. 

“It's almost like you _want_ me to come looking for you--” Jason went on, joining the all out brawl, fists swinging. 

Batman grunted. As much as he wanted to answer, now wasn't the time. His usual moves were limited, but he still managed well enough. Two bit thugs weren't the hardest to deal with, and he wasn't _crippled_ or even really incapacitated. 

Just.

Well.

“If you needed me, why didn't you ask?”

Batman glanced around at the scene before him-- the unconscious bodies of Two Face's thugs were strewn across the floor in uncomfortable looking positions, faces battered before looking up at Jason, who had taken off his helmet. 

“I didn't need you.”

Jason tilted his head in a way that was oddly reminiscent of Cassandra. “From where I was standing, I don't think stun stick are something that you should be messing with.”

“Call the GCPD to do a pick up.”

“It's never really been my style to call the GCPD...” Jason held his hands up as Batman leveled him with an unimpressed glare. “But for you, I will.”

Batman tapped the sequence for the Batmobile on his gauntlet.

“A thank you would be nice!”

“But not necessary.” Batman quipped back, unable to stop himself when it came to Red Hood. 

Jason had grown up and out of his anger in the last few years, and had learned to settle down when he was maskless. There would always been something fiery about Jason, but was more of a passion, Bruce had mused. He'd become far more trustworthy, far more reasonable, but Bruce couldn't see himself saying this to Jason, as Jason would probably burst out laughing. It was true, and as much as Bruce wanted to thank Jason for all that he's done, he knew the change wasn't one hundred percent Jason himself, but someone else, gently guiding him a different direction.

“Finished?” Black Bat asked, leaning against the Batmobile.

Batman grunted his response, but nodded.

“You should go back.”

Cassandra touched a lot, using her hands to support her words, her silence as communication, and her energy to push her goals. Her grip was almost playful as she tugged his cape towards the car and the hatch opened. 

“Are you going to go back as well?” Bruce asked, reving the Batmobile's engine. 

“No. It's too early.”

Bruce felt the sting of scolding, but smiled at her anyway. Goddamn hormones. He heard the sound of a batclaw shooting, Jason's annoyed voice and Stephanie's laughter. Were the three of them all lurking around him quietly, as he worked? He expected the flush of annoyance to overtake him, but it was instead a flush of fondness that he felt as Black Bat grappled up into the sky and took off after Red Hood and Batgirl.

“You're making me soft, kiddo,” Bruce murmured, allowing himself a short moment to focus on the baby flipping inside of him. 

Everyone thought he had it all together, because that was what he projected, that was what he _believed_. But he knew he didn't, not all the time, and not completely in this case. Every instance of a Robin, they had already been somewhat older, old enough to grasp some logical conclusions, old enough that he allowed himself to believe that they could make their own choices on _some_ things. 

But, with this baby, she'll be a baby. Helpless, reliant, incapable of understand basic logic for a few years, and it will be all on him. She was a completely random variable thrown into Bruce's already hectic life, even if he thought he had considered every facet of having another child. 

His hand gripped the shift stick tightly, worry making his stomach churn. The baby kicked, changing positions and making Bruce sigh. 

This had been entirely too easy. Something had to give.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't get this chapter beta'd, and it was a battle to even get it finished-- a lot was switched around, moved and broken up to make sense, and it seems kind of choppy to me, but hopefully the next chapter will clear up some of the things I eluded to. Thanks for reading!

By all accounts, League meetings _should_ be awkward, _could_ be awkward, considering all of the founders knew that Bruce was pregnant, but no one thought bringing it up to Batman was the greatest idea. 

They didn't have to. In fact, Batman seemed to be running a tighter ship, but without the iron fist that he tended to press on their heads when he wanted things _just so_. Instead, he seemed easier to approach, and oddly thoughtless when he spoke, as if he had something else on his mind.

Which, to be fair, he did. Just not enough people knew about it to turn it into _something_.

However, if one looked close enough, it wasn't exactly something that was hidden. Any telepath would hear another consciousness if they were paying attention. Any empath would feel the waves of love pouring off Superman if they were paying attention.

But no one was paying attention, and Batman went about his business, same as he always did.

J'onn was paying attention. He was quiet, and held Batman's trust, so Bruce never complained, not once, about the touches of telepathic energy when it touched the back of his mind.

Bruce's batsuit was bumpless and hid every obvious sign of pregnancy. But his mind was alight with that little fact. It wasn't so different that the usual busy roar of Bruce's mind, different than the busyness of the other member's minds. J'onn didn't pry-- most of them were projecting, and during a meeting it took alot of energy to block out the calls of their minds while paying attention to the task at hand. 

It was hard to explain, but the well known echos of his fellow Leaguers minds-- it was almost soothing in a way. He could sense the changes in them and react accordingly, and step in when needed, but this was rare, this wasn't a change that he needed to step in and help with. 

Bruce's mind was generally closed off, though it took a lot of effort. But as of late, his mind had been open, and when J'onn extended his mind to touch, he was greeted with warmth. Unbridled happiness. Wariness. Mild confusion. A jumble of emotions that would take time for J'onn to pick apart, and didn't feel like he had the right to. 

But, the warmth was curious. A rumbly, low energy that seemed to shed light on the darker recesses of Bruce's mind and sooth the jagged edges. 

“Can you hear the baby's thoughts?” Bruce asked one day, his voice quiet in the monitor room. It was rare for them to hold monitor duty together, but J'onn supposed it was for this very reason.

“Not thoughts.” J'onn responded after a moment. “The child's thoughts are merely extensions of your own thoughts. Feelings.”

“What does she feel?”

“She?”

“It's a girl.” Bruce said, even quieter than before. J'onn could feel another wave of love. He smiled.

“She is comfortable. Nothing is upsetting her. Content in a way I've only felt from unborn children.”

Feelings of happiness and waves of love filled the room, and J'onn held back a smile. It was almost a gift to be able to feel what was lurking in Bruce Wayne's mind; even more so when it was such feelings of happiness.

“Hello, J'onn.”

J'onn turned to greet Superman, who had come in to take his monitor shift. But, what was more interesting than Superman's obvious jubilant mood, was the waves of pure love directed at Bruce, from a simple acknowledging glance from the other. 

He didn't often mind the secretive glances shared between the two, because it had nothing to do with him. However, right this moment, he could feel it from both of them. It was intense and consuming, and J'onn was almost _startled_ by the intensity of the passion between them. 

Sometimes, J'onn wondered how they could stand each other with how passionate they both were. He's seen them in the field, he has seen them after missions gone awry; he couldn't fathom how a relationship would work between them, and recently, how they would manage a child between them...

But this? 

This he could understand.

This was something J'onn wished he could show them, so they could truly feel what they felt for each other. They clearly had their own way of communicating, and hearing the I love yous pouring from Superman's mind felt like enough eavesdropping. 

“I will take my leave, then,” J'onn gave the two a polite bow, turning on his heel. “I will see you both at the end of your shifts.”

“Yes, of course,” Superman confirmed, giving J'onn a nod as the Martian swept down the hall. His attention turned quickly back to Batman, who'd turned his attention back to the screens.

“What are you working on?”

“Finalizing these plans for the treaty with the Viridians.” Bruce ran his finger along the holographic screen, moving one piece of information to another place. “Is there any reason you switched shifts with Hal?”

“I'm not allowed to want to spend time with you?”

“You live with me.”

Clark shifted to move behind Bruce, resting his chin over the armor on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce rarely allowed moments like these when they were on duty, but since the baby, Bruce had relaxed slightly.

“Clark...”

“Her heart is beating with yours. Usually it's faster than yours, and babies are always like that, but right now? Your heatbeats match perfectly.”

Bruce was silent.

“It's surreal. She's right there. Right under your armor, right under your skin. She's so close.”

Bruce turned to face Clark, his lips set in a confused frown.

“I can't explain it. Maybe it's a kryptonian reaction, but being around you is almost calming.”

“Calming.”

“I feel a low level of, well, anxiousness, I guess when I'm far away from you. Hearing your heartbeats helps during the day, but I just want to be close by.”

“Possessive? From you?”

“Not quite that.” Clark looked thoughtful for a moment before glancing at the monitors. “Why don't you sit?”

Bruce leveled Clark with an unimpressed glare before doing just that.

“I'm sitting down because my hips have been aching for the last three days.”

“When you say things like that, it makes me want to fly you to the fortress and keep you in there until the baby is born.” Clark sounded unsure of the words coming out of his mouth, but he sat down in the chair next to Bruce and looked up at the wide expanse of monitors. “It's not possessiveness; not quite. It's not that I want to keep you away from everyone and everything and keep you close to me. I just want you to be-- happy. I feel more in tune with you, and you being close means I can feel you.”

“So you can feel me?” and that, that was Bruce being curious; Bruce was listening with no judgment in his voice whatsoever.

“Right now, I'm listening to you. You don't have to say anything, but you're next to me; I can hear your heart beating, her hear beating, blood rushing through your veins, blood pumping through her veins. I can see her, I can see you, and I feel like I'm at peace. Nothing is bothering me, and nothing _can_ bother me. You're here with me, and you're pregnant and she's _ours_...”

Clark turned slight to look at Bruce, and Bruce felt that stare all the way down to his core-- and it wasn't x-ray vision, it wasn't Clark checking him over or looking at their daughter, it was Clark looking at _him,_ looking at everything he is. The glaze wasn't piercing or something that was looking straight through him, but it was warm. 

It was probably the hormones. But, Bruce felt warm nonetheless, and the baby must of felt it too, given the light kick he felt to his side.

“Thank you, Bruce.”

  
  


  
  


If Clark could pinpoint exactly where this little space trip went wrong, it was him letting Bruce wax poetic bullshit about his aching back and the lack of gravity being good for all the pressure on his organs. He would admit to being weak for Bruce in general, but he was a lost cause when Bruce was pressed close to him, whispering quietly and calmly against his neck while their _daughter_ kicked hard enough for Clark to feel it. It filled him with the gooey, sweet feelings of familial bliss, and agreeable to whatever Bruce said. Up to and including a brief overnight mission to another planet as peaceful envoies.

Clark glanced over at Bruce, who was being poked and prodded by curious and offended aliens. He could see the scathing retorts sitting on the tip of Bruce's tongue-- he had refused to remove his cowl, but had been stripped of most of his armor, simply to prove that he wasn't hiding a _spy_ on his person. 

“We negotiated four Earthlings to come to our planet!” the furious, multicolored aliens squawked. They were short, and not quite humanoid, but they were peaceful seeming, and plant based creatures, if their explanations were to be believed. They were from under a blue sun, leading to their “skin” to be a variety of colors. Vibrant blues, pinks and yellows blossomed in flower form of their skin, vines twitching from their finger tips and body. Poison Ivy would feel right at home with this group, he was sure.

Clark still didn't believe they were hostile, just protective of their peaceful planet, but still curious about Earth, which, well, actually seemed hostile. He really couldn't blame them for wanting to make sure the envoys they had asked to meet with weren't going to try anything funny.

He could blame them for the rather rude line of questioning focused on _their_ _child_ , however.

“Not a spy,” Batman murmured, his hands twitching at his sides, trying not to bat away the offending vines circling around his middle. “Don't squeeze, she's not going to do anything, but I will if you do anything to her.”

“Her?” Hal asked, obviously trying to hold back a chuckle of amusement.

“If you're going to act like this, we can send for another Lantern,” said J'onn, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

“We agreed to four envoys, not five,” the feminine presenting alien snapped. “Excuse us for being wary of a fifth envoy.”

“There is no fifth envoy,” Bruce responded calmly, finally knocking away the wandering vines. Clark kept his distance, watching carefully for a cue as to when he should step in, if ever. He glossed over Bruce's form briefly, taking a close look at their daughter sleeping peacefully, unaware of the trouble she'd caused. “We agreed to four envoys, and there are four members of the League here right now, correct?”

“There are five--”

“Four members of the League. The fifth person you are detecting is not a member of the League, nor is she a spy.”

“Explain yourself then, Bat-Man.”

“...” Batman turned his head, and sighed out a long suffering breath. “I... am with child. When this arrangement was made, I wasn't, but now I am. However, that does not mean that there are five envoys, there are four, the other person hasn't been born yet, and isn't due to be born yet for a few months still.”

“Ah, humans reproduce sexually.” the obvious leader of the group said, the vine that was once touching Batman's midsection shifting into something like a hand. “Such a messy process, is it not?”

Batman did not design to answer, and instead pointedly stared at his armor. Superman coughed.

“Is everything okay now?” He asked, tentatively. “Anymore questions?” 

“We are watching you Earthlings. Nothing that chooses to carry its young can be trusted.”

“I agree,” Hal put in, unnecessarily. Bruce's glare was withering. 

“No one asked.” J'onn uttered, his voice low and soothing as always. He extended his arms and the Viridians who gave him a nod and motioned for the group to follow.

Now, Clark would say that Bruce convincing him to come was when things fell apart, but that would be placing the blame entirely on him. This trip was going to go to shit whether or not the Viridians knew about the baby or not, being they had their own agendas and reasonings for wanting Superman to be an envoy instead of Wonder Woman. 

But the baby didn't help. Not one bit. 

  
  


The baby was kicking. Her timing was awful, as it tended to be, but this time Bruce just wanted to throw up. It felt as though the baby had turned with him, her head facing down towards his pelvis-- which, generally, was alright, as she still had the space to turn like that, but right this second?

Her feet were pressed against what felt like Bruce's stomach, making it increasingly difficult to breathe and hold down whatever was in his stomach.

Clark was _dead_ the very second Bruce freed himself and figured out what the hell was going on. 

He remembered chunks of what happened. He remembered the rather short trip to the Viridian's lush planet (“what if we got in a boomtube and the baby ended up being on the outside instead of the inside?” “shut up.”), he remembered the green glow of the sun that they claimed was blue “on the other side of the planet”, and the wary look on Clark's face. Not alarmed or upset, which, by all rights he should have been, if Bruce was correct in remembering his kryptonian physiology. 

He tried to think ahead, while rolling his body, trying to check himself over for any injuries. 

The Viridians knew a fair bit about Krypton; their leader had visited the planet a few times before it's destruction and gave their condolences when informed. As they strolled the path to the embassy, the Viridian leaders spoke a bit about their planet, their green sun, their curiosity about Earth's yellow sun, and how the Earth's flora and fauna reacted to it. Bruce should have taken that as a clue towards their intentions, but as beings who were _plants_ an interest in the Earth's sun was completely reasonable.

What was unreasonable were their probing questions about Clark and his powers, all of which he managed to deflect with aplomb. Bruce simply nodded along, taking in his surroundings. Because of this, he didn't notice the shimmering, golden spores that he generally associated with _Ivy_ , and always associated with “oh _shit_.” The spores tasted of honey and sweetness, and Bruce only hoped that he looked deeply offended when his vision started to blur.

And now, he was here. Hanging upside down in a dank looking underground dungeon. With the baby fussing. He hoped that this sort of behavior wouldn't carry over after her birth, but that was a mental tussle that he would have to deal with later. The Viridians had done their homework on Superman, but he were severely misinformed about _him_. Leaving him in his suit was their first mistake. Their second mistake was leaving him with his _belt_. This was going to be entirely too easy, and he was almost offended at their lack of attempt. 

He made quick work of the chins holding him, and dropped down to the dirt floor silently.

“Oh good, you're awake, Bat-Man.”

The Virdian who had been so intent on finding out why he was hiding a spy on his person was in the room. Bruce leveled her with a careful gaze. At least his cowl was still on.

“Let me out.”

“We cannot, we need you in one place.”

“For what.”

“To extract the sun god's heir.”

“ _What._ ”

  
  


  
  


Damian was bored. His father was gone on a trip to a planet with more aliens that Damian hoped he wouldn't bring home, and everyone else was to keep a close watch on Gotham.

And he was so, so very bored.

“Even if we had to deal with Joker, you wouldn't be front and center with him,” Steph said, twirling a batarang around her finger.

“I hit him with a crowbar once,” was Damian's reply, his legs swinging off the side of a building. 

“Of course you did.” Came Jason's voice through his headset. “Have I told you that you're my favorite Robin lately?”

“I'll take that as the compliment I'm sure that you meant it to be.” Damian said mildly, more interested in the crunching and punching sounds come Jason's side than what he was actually saying.

“Tim is my least favorite.”

“That is so weird because I don't remember asking.” Damian could hear the sound of Red Robin's staff against someone's face. He smirked.

“You're my favorite Robin, don't worry.” Steph soothed, and Tim snorted. 

“I'm not getting involved in this favorites stuff, it only leads to a prank war and I think Alfred will kill us if we get into that again.”

Cassandra chuckled, listening to the easy banter between the group. Damian had quieted down and opted to lean against her, his little face scrunched up, obviously deep in thought instead of focused on their admittedly dull patrol. Their sector was clear, but they were a little father up town, while Red Hood and Red Robin were farther downtown, which desperately needed some new lights. 

She let Damian keep spacing out, since he did it so rarely, he must have been thinking about something important. The younger boy had admitted to having his thoughts consumed by his sister, even if she wasn't even here yet. Jason had been around for that discussion, and told him that babies have a sort of way about them, that they tend to consume everyone's thoughts and reactions. Damian, in his usual way was silent after Jason said this, and wandered off to think about it.

Cassandra knew that a lot of people in the family were worried about Damian's reactions to his little sibling thus far, but he had gone from outright hostile, to ignoring the baby, to now, where he was thoughtful and considering. He just needed the space. It was a big change, he was _eleven_ and Cassandra knew the life he led before coming here. She could see and understand, even if Damian didn't quite understand. He would get there eventually.

“Are we getting burritos after patrol?” Steph asked rather suddenly.

“So you can be obscene with the man who makes them for us? I don't think so.” Damian snapped, coming out of his trance. “Breakfast foods. Or Indian. Pick one.”

“You're giving me a choice?”

“Breakfast it is.”

Cassandra chuckled to herself, and got to her feet. If they wanted the last three hours of patrol to go by, they would have to, at the very least, swing around. She pulled her grapple gun from belt and took off, leaving the other two to argue.

“Calm down, Batpig, you can get burritos, I will take the rest for breakfast.”

“Are you gonna call your sister Batpig when she grows up? Rude little shit.”

“She'll be _my_ sister. She'll be amazing.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...But, you must remember that you will have someone who looks up to you with no expectations. None at all. What would you like her to see when she looks at you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been writing this fic too long and i want it out of my face oh my gDO. unbeta'd.

“Do you have time, Richard?”

 

Dick lifted his head from the pillow he had his face pressed into.

 

“Hey, Dami.”

 

“Are you busy?”

 

“I _was_ sleeping--”

 

“Is Damian here?” Kori poked her head into the living room and swooped in upon seeing Damian's frown. “You are here! Hello, Damian.”

 

Damian didn't fight the hug he was swept into, his face pressing into Kori's chest.

 

Kori and Dick's apartment was cozy. It wasn't messy by any means (Damian knew it was the work of Alfred and Kori) but it looked _lived_ in. The couches were big and sunk down when you sat into them, and Kori always burned light candles. Usually of something fruity-- Damian was partial to the coconut himself – and she always treated him like he belonged there, even if it was simply to sit in silence.

 

“Hello, Miss Koriand'r. I came to talk to Richard about something.”

 

“Is it about baby superbat?” Dick asked, sitting up and running his fingers through his tousled hair.

 

“A little bit.” Kori released Damian from her hug and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Do you want leftovers?”

 

“I have eaten. Thank you.”

 

Dick snorted; Damian's sense of being hyper polite around Kori was _hilarious._ He sat up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as Kori swept out of the room.

 

“Cassandra suggested I speak to my mother about the way I'm _feeling._ ” Dick could hear the verbal sneer even if Damian's face was passive.

 

“Did you want me to help you find her or something?”

 

“I can manage that myself if I wanted to, thank you.

 

Dick raised an eyebrow and waited for Damian to settle himself on the recliner.

 

“It feels reductive to speak to Mother; she has no idea what is going on.” he rested his cheek against his folded fist. “Even if she did, I doubt she would have anything constructive to say on the matter. Survival of the fittest, and to her, I am the fittest.”

 

Dick winced. He moved to lay back down, knowing perfectly well that the best way to let Damian get his feelings out was to simply let him speak his mind. Remaining in a comfortable position let Damian relax. Damian himself would never admit it, but he _could_ be read, quite easily, actually if you knew exactly what made him tick.

 

“But that's not what you want to hear?”

 

“No. I'm not sure what I want to hear, but it wouldn't be what she would say.”

 

“And you want to hear that...”

 

“...it's okay.”

 

“It _is_ okay.” Dick pressed, rolling over to grab the pillow he had his head on to crush it to his chest. “What do you think is going to happen when the baby is born?”

 

“I don't know. I'm an only child.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You're all _old_ , I'm an only _child_.”

 

Kori flew back in, graceful as ever, and refusing to walk around the house. She landed on Dick's back, crossed her legs and didn't even bother to pretend she wasn't listening.

 

“If I may, Damian,”

 

“Of course.”

 

“As both a younger sister, and an older sister, I can assure you, there is nothing quite like the relationship between siblings.” Dick chortled under her, muttering ' _understatement_ ' as Kori went on. “It's different for everyone. But you have a choice that not everyone gets, and not everyone makes correctly. You have made the choice for each member of your family here. You changed over time, as did your relationships. Do you regret any of it?”

 

“I don't know. Things changed to my current liking.”

 

Kori clicked her tongue. “In that case, what relationship would you want with your sister?”

 

Damian's voice changed to quiet and thoughtful. “I don't know. I didn't think about that... I don't know what I want with her.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I don't want her to take my place.”

 

Kori hummed instead of replying, leaning back against the couch as Dick shifted under her. “I believe a sibling relationship can be a very powerful relationship. It all depends on if the older sibling extends their hand.” She had a distant look to her eyes, as though she was in another place in time, in her history, a place Damian couldn't quite reach her. But, her words clearly meant something deeper to her.

 

“It wouldn't kill you to talk to Bruce, you know,” Dick piped up, after a beat. “He's been an ooey, gooey ball lately. What's the worst that could happen? You're wary about being a big brother, but at least you had time to adjust before someone else shows up, right?”

 

Damian, who was rubbing his face, cracked an eye open at Dick's words. Dick shrugged with a little effort. It wasn't a sore point of him, or even awkward; not anymore. He found, that with Damian, nothing was truly awkward unless you made it that way.

 

“I'm just saying. Things changed. Things _change_ , Damian. You just have roll with it or get flattened.”

 

“A baby is a blank slate,” Kori added in, a hand running over Dick's back, fondness etched over her face. “As the older one, you will set the tone for your relationship with her. I will not tell you that you need to decide, but you must remember that you will have someone who looks up to you with no expectations. None at all. What would you like her to see when she looks at you?”

 

 

 

Bruce was reclining on pillows. They were fluffed well, piled high, and _beautiful_. Rich in color; beautiful reds, blues, greens and golds. He, much to his disgruntlement, had been stripped bare, save for a silken feeling cloth that was wrapped around his hips. He had demanded that his belt would at least remain in the room, which was promptly ignored, but the Viridians had said they would give it to their Sun God.

 

Being unmasked was enough of an issue, being disrobed and unarmed was frustrating, but threatening his child was bordering on “escape and blow something up out of spite” levels. It wouldn't be very good for diplomatic relations, but either was being kidnapped for completely inane reasons.

 

He glanced around the room again, and he wouldn't lie and say he _wasn't_ looking for a way out. He was. But he knew the ground below him had vines that were easily tripped with his every movement, meaning he had no choice but to wait and see what the Viridians had meant by extracting the heir.

 

“Hey! Watch those vines, man!”

 

Bruce sat up quickly to view the commotion coming from where he knew a door of sorts was. Vines moved, revealing a group of Viridians dropping a scantily clad Hal Jordan into room.

 

He sighed. “This is the very last thing I felt like dealing with today.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hal held up his hands, looking around the lush room he had been thrown into. “ _You're_ the Sun God's consort? This is where the hell you've been? What the hell!”

 

“I'm the Sun God's _what_?”

 

But Hal started laughing, big, gasping cackles that made Bruce's eye twitch.

 

“Consort. Of course I am.” Bruce figured aloud, leaning back against the pillows. “Which, I assume, means I'm very precious to the Viridians.... meaning you're my servant.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You look like a cabana boy. Get me some fruit.”

 

“Oh, don't you start you fucking--”

 

“Shut up and bring me strawberries, Jordan.”

 

Elsewhere, Clark wasn't worried about Bruce. Bruce's heartbeat was slow and normal, the baby's heartbeat at her usual pace. They were fine.

 

Him, however? This was exactly why he refused to let people on Earth turn him into a figurehead.

 

“This really isn't needed--”

 

“Praise the Sun God's Arrival! Praise the Sun God!”

 

Clark looked around frantically, but couldn't see anything beyond a sea of flower-y, pollen spewing creatures. His senses were on mass overload, with the turning of their planet brought on a hefty dose of blue sun rays. The last time this happened was nearly six months ago, so by all rights, he shouldn't have forgotten how it feels.

 

“Praise the Sun God!”

 

They had all managed to be separated with such effortless, obviously bullshit excuses, and even more obvious was the lack of knowledge that the Viridians had when it came to the League. Getting Batman away from the rest of them? There was no way that wouldn't end bad.

 

'J'onn?' Clark intoned, feeling the phantom tendrils of the Martian's presence. 'Where is everyone? Are we safe?'

 

J'onn was quiet for a moment, his mind searching for the rest of their team.

 

'...Safe,' the Martian responded quietly.

 

'Safe. Okay.' Clark could work with that, and more importantly, Bruce could work with that. As long as he was _fine_ – J'onn's version of safe was far more acceptable than Bruce's was – then they would get out of this with limited issues. Until then, he could try and figure out how to get away, round up GL and Batman and somehow get the hell out of dodge.

 

Of course, that was when a blossom bloomed right next to his hand and using the stalk it was in, slithered up his arm.

 

“We do not wish to bother you during your procession, our Lord,”

 

Clark winced.

 

“But your consort isn't responding to commands. We moved him from his servant to begin the extraction process--”

 

“What--” Clark croaked. “Extraction process?”

 

“But he escaped.” The voice on the other side of the flower sounded distraught. Or, Clark thought hopefully, the voice sounded like it's owner had gotten kicked in the throat. “He seemed displeased about the extraction process, as helpful as it would be for him. Removing the Heir would free him to better serve you.”

 

Clark let out a slow breath, counting backwards from ten. _That_ was a loaded statement, and for Bruce's sake, he truly hoped the Viridians didn't _say_ of this to Bruce.

 

“We're mobilizing our best to retrieve your Consort, my Lord. Before he escaped, he had been making complaints of leaking, as it were--”

 

“Leaking?!”

 

 

 

It was quiet enough in Gotham that _Damian_ of all people tapped out early, and claimed to be going back to the manor. Which, to be fair to him, he did and he changed and showered as well. It was barely two am when he waited atop Wayne Manor.

 

In almost two years, Damian had created a little life for himself. He never talked about it, but he had forged bones that held him together and kept him standing, even if there were still some that insisted that he was still ten years old and angry. He wasn't. And even if he was, who was to say he wasn't allowed to be angry? Why were his emotions being easily on display such a bad thing?

 

And after all those lectures from Grayson, too.

 

But he _did_ have friends. People he considered friends. People who thought of him as Damian, just Damian, not Damian al Ghul, or Damian Wayne, or Robin, really. He was the choices he made-- not the choices made for him.

 

“You're late.”

 

“Do you know any idea how hard it is to fly when you're in a rush?” Billy Batson, in his full Shazam form, folded his arms. “I'm two minutes late.”

 

Damian grunted in response, making Billy grin and float a little lower to Damian could get on his back.

 

“Two minutes is still late.”

 

“Y'know, you could ask your dad to drive you to my place instead of me flying over here and possibly getting roasted by Batman.”

 

“He's not going to do anything.”

 

Billy looked a little wary but still flew off, minding Damian's grip on the back of his suit. “Did you bring your playstation?”

 

“I know you like my playstation more than you like me, but don't make it so obvious.”

 

The flight to Fawcett was quiet after that, Billy biting into his lip to keep his chuckles to himself.

 

Damian's brain was still turning over what Kori had said earlier than day. As much as Damian didn't want to admit it, all of his relationships were deeply effected by who he was. Even Billy, who had pushed it aside for the most part, still knew him as Batman's son.

 

But with this little one – a little sister, a pure little mind, who would have no specific thoughts about him – he could be anything.

 

“Hey, William?”

 

“Shit!” Billy yelped, dropping his controller to the floor. “Wait, what? Dude, did you see that? Josh, he--”

 

“You let him live?” Damian snorted. The two had made the living room their domain; blankets and pillows spread out all over the floor like a den, an empty pizza box to the side, and Billy rocking slightly in his gaming chair while Damian propped himself up on a pillow.

 

“I killed them all first. I'm not done with the survival run-through. I want to ask you something.”

 

Bill peered at him from his low seat, eyes curious. “Shoot, dude.”

 

“What do you even do with a sibling?”

 

“What? I don't know? I don't really have siblings.”

 

Damian groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “But, what would _you_ do with a sibling?”

 

“Um. Well, you can't do much with a baby, I guess. But, they do that cute thing where they grab your finger if you put it in their hand. Can't say I've ever wanted to change a diaper, but teaching them to walk could be cool.”

 

Billy gave a half shrug. “It's only a big deal if you make it into a big deal, like dude. Listen. Seriously, you've been flipping out for months.”

 

“It _is_ a big deal.”

 

“It isn't. And you wanna know why?”

 

“Enlighten me.”

 

“No one ever asks to be born, that's why. People are born every day, people become parents or little brothers or big brothers every day, and their world doesn't end. What exactly do you think a baby is gonna do? Hate you?”

 

And just like that, he was ten again, the pinnacle of brattiness and self assured privilege and superiority. Everyone was breathing down his neck, and for what? Because he put them on the edge like that. Now, he knew that, but those fights, those put downs, those feelings were still very close to the surface of his skin, burning as he tried to change. Perhaps he found a way with Todd, managed Drake and found friendship with Grayson, but there was absolutely no telling what his sister would find him as.

 

Not enough? Lacking? Too much of something he couldn't help? Maybe she just simply wouldn't like him.

 

“Dude, you are honestly so fucked up.”

 

“-tt- Very funny.”

 

“No, I'm serious. You really think that baby is gonna hate you?”

 

“So what if I do?”

 

“Why would she hate you? Cause you're Batman's son? The baby will be related to him, too. Do you think she'll hate you because of your mom? Because I don't think a baby is going to care. Babies don't care about anything, except who takes care of them, and if you can take care of a baby, I think she'll be cool with you.”

 

“You really think it will be that easy?”

 

“You're not gonna take the home econ classes until you're in high school probably, so here's a spoiler: babies are only hard for the parents. You are basically a glorified baby sitter. Hold her when she cries, feed her when she's hungry, make sure her diaper is clean? Like... I'm not sure what you're freaking out for.”

 

Billy's brow furrowed as he examined his friend's deep scowl. Damian was only twelve turning thirteen soon, while Billy was fifteen, turning sixteen soon. Their friendship should be weird, by all rights. Billy didn't know anyone his age who hung out with twelve year olds, but no one his age knew twelve year old assassins either, so he supposed he could give himself a little leeway there.

 

“What if she just doesn't like me? For who I am?”

 

“Why would she hate you for being her older brother?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> logically, billy shouldn't be anywhere near damian's age. wasn't he shazam when dick was robin? 
> 
> wasn't he?
> 
> looks into the distance
> 
> side note: jason mentioned damian being 11. damian is not 11 in this fic, but jason isn't paying enough attention to him to know this
> 
> side note two: you know i'm struggling when it's like mostly dialogue and welp


End file.
